


No Regrets

by jillyfae



Series: Warden Blues [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Romantic Friendship, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old friends, current lovers, awkward siblings, and a rescue in the Deep Roads.</p><p>Nothing's ever simple in Kirkwall.  But sometimes good things happen anyways.  Even if just for a night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nathaniel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seimaisin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/gifts).



Nathaniel hadn’t expected to see the Champion himself.  Not that he was complaining, as an extra sword against the ‘spawn was always welcome, but he’d been specifically ordered  not  to bother the infamous Hawke or the other Tethras, as they were rather well known for not leaving well enough alone, and he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to explain that he’d run into both of them.

Plus  Anders.

Maybe he’d refrain from mentioning Anders.  

The man had saved his life, after all, and he hadn’t been able to return the favor when the Templars showed up in Amaranthine…

Guilt was neither sensible nor helpful.  But feeling vaguely guilty about Anders was slightly better than active nauseating worry about his team, further underground.

Bethany.

The Champion had been more than willing to help; quick enough to offer aid that Nathaniel hadn’t even had a chance to mention his sister.

He felt a touch guilty about that, too, but was too relieved to do more than lead the way further into the tunnels.

“Crawling through Blight-infested tunnels, rescuing Wardens in peril… this is what I signed up for.”  

Nathaniel turned his head to stare in disbelief at the man who had stepped up to walk next to him.  He could feel his eyebrow lift almost up to his hairline.  That hadn’t sounded remotely sarcastic.  “Yes.  Right. Darkspawn.  Tunnels.  Fun.”   _Why we have to beat off potential recruits with a stick.  Everyone looks forward to it._

“Well, there’s fun and then there’s  fun. ”  The other man raised a brow, even as his voice dropped.

_ Is he flirting? Now?  With me? _

“But I suppose you’d rather find your people first, yes?”  The man smiled, blue eyes alight, as if he’d read Nathaniel’s mind.  “We’re good at rescuing people.  Best part of following Hawke around all the time.”

“Of course it is.”  Nathaniel turned to pay attention to his route again, trying not to shake his head.  He was grateful for the help; seemed petty to be half-annoyed at the manner of it.  And half-tempted… there was something almost familiar about the set of those shoulders.

“What was your name again, Starkhaven?”  The accent, at least, had been easy to place, after a fosterage in the Marches.

“Sebastian.”  The man drew out every syllable of his own damned name, and only smiled when Nathaniel glared at him again.

“And your family name?”

The smile disappeared, and something cold and dark peeked out from behind his fancy eyes.  “That is hardly important now.”

Nathaniel might have argued, some sharp comment about not being the one who’d started it, or  _can’t be worse than being named Howe in Ferelden_ ,  but the low hum of darkspawn in the back of his head was, rather suddenly, not so far away, and he readied his bow instead.

* * *

He’d fought with other archers before.

Not lately though.  There were very few who were any good in tunnels, prone to panicking when their sight lines were cut off, unable to deal with close combat, unwilling to adjust to an enemy that could stagger back from an arrow through the shoulder and then keep going again; if a ‘spawn lost use of its arm, it would be more than happy to attack with teeth.

Sebastian was good enough his arrows usually found a neck or a heart or once rather spectacularly an emissary’s eye.

And then in the moment when their line broke, genlock flanking past Hawke and the elf with the sword as big as he was tall to attack the ranged fighters directly, Sebastian had simply stabbed one with an arrow.  Repeatedly.  Until it stopped moving.

And then he’d lifted said arrow to his bow, managing to compensate for the warp of the spine and hit a hurlock in the back of the head.

The arrow didn’t do a bit of damage, but it successfully distracted the thing before it could try and chew the elf mage’s arm off, giving her a chance to do something disturbing with the ground at its feet until it was thoroughly ground to bloody paste.

Nathaniel would’ve thought he’d be used to terrifying elvhen women by now.  But she was oddly bright and chipper for a dalish underground, wide-eyed and sweetly smiling, which did rather make the change to bloodthirsty and brutal a bit more disconcerting.  Certainly no more unwelcome than Hawke or the rest of his group though, especially when she pulled roots down through the roof and tore the last ‘spawn apart, blood and bone spattering across the stone.

Hawke was  good.   And surrounded by equally deadly people.  As witnessed by the literal pile of darkspawn killed by seven people, only one of whom was a Warden.

If he didn’t know he was a very good Warden he might have felt a little inadequate for a moment.

“May I mention how grateful I am you ran into my sister?” Nathaniel managed as he strode past Hawke to take the lead again, flicking bits of blood off his gloves before they dried.

“It bears repeating.”  Hawke grinned, a flash of bright teeth behind his dark beard.  “Always do enjoy some praise and recognition.”

“Is that why you keep me around?”  Tethras shook his head, that remarkable crossbow of his braced firmly against his shoulder.

“I just keep you around to keep Bianca happy.”  Hawke slapped a hand firmly between the dwarf’s shoulders.  Tethras didn’t even wince, apparently used to such displays of affection.  “She is one of a kind, after all.”

“Keep your greedy hands to yourself, Hawke, or she won’t play nice.”

Hawke laughed as he adjusted the straps of his shield, a hearty sound echoing against the stone as the passage opened up.

* * *

 

Hawke didn’t laugh when he saw Bethany.  He swooped across the stone paving, grabbing her into a tight hug, lifting her all the way off the ground, the tension in his arms visible even from Nathaniel’s viewpoint.

Hawke’s entire crew crowded around, all equally delighted to see her, nicknames and greetings and grasping hands reaching out to her.  Nathaniel’s chest tightened as she dropped her head, withdrawing into herself in a way he hadn’t seen since her first year in the Wardens, even though she kept her voice steady and her eyes clear.

Sometimes seeing what could have been hurt too much to bear, and yet she bore it anyway.

He wanted more than anything to kiss her then.  She would not appreciate the display, he knew, her life, her secrets, her emotions shown before these almost strangers, almost family, and so his hands clenched at his sides, and he waited instead.

It was Sebastian, oddly enough, who gently pushed the rest of them away, letting Hawke set them all to watch for ‘spawn before bowing over Bethany’s hand.  “It is good to see you again, milady.”  

The tightness in Nathaniel’s chest rose to strangle his throat as he watched her smile, faintly, when Sebastian turned her hand over in his, his lips brushing softly against the inside of her wrist.

“And you as well, Brother Sebastian.”

“My Chantry days are long behind me.  As you well know.”  Even trying desperately to ignore them, Nathaniel could feel the heat of the bastard’s eyes as he looked up at her through his lashes, still bent over her hand.  “Perhaps you would care to join me for a drink, when we’re back under the sky and have had some fresh air, and we can catch up?”

“I,” Bethany almost stuttered, her cheeks so very faintly flushing as she glanced over at Nathaniel, who was rather disconcerted to find himself almost as annoyed that Sebastian wasn’t flirting with him anymore as that he was flirting with Bethany.

“Oh?” Sebastian’s voice was barely louder than a breath as he rose up straight and tall again, and there was that smile,  now aimed at Nathaniel.  “Is that the way of things?  You are both most cordially invited, then.  Hawke and Varric will assuredly be holding court at the Hanged Man, but if you’d prefer something a bit quieter, I do have a suite at The Golden Chain.”

Nathaniel felt an eyebrow lift at that, the name of the most exclusive inn in Hightown, if he remembered Kirkwall properly.   _Who is this blasted fellow, anyways?  And why do I feel like I ought to know the answer to that question already?_

* * *

 

They’d gone to the Hanged Man, as Hawke requested, and it was loud and hot and it stank.

Not as much as the Deep Roads, of course, but it was not particularly pleasant.

At least  they  didn’t stink anymore, thanks to the bath at Delilah’s inn.  She’d sent them away again, once they were clean, once she knew they were well.  For all she’d settled happily into a domestic life, she remembered what it was like after too long fighting, the fire and the restlessness.

The need to celebrate.

Usually Nathaniel preferred celebrating in private, him and Bethany, heat and skin.  Not having to deal with other people.  But she had unfinished business to settle in Kirkwall.

He watched Bethany smile at her brother, and stand between him and a duelist introduced as Isabela, warning the woman to keep her hands to herself, one sharp glance at Nathaniel making her meaning clear.  Isabela seemed more amused than offended, and offered Nathaniel a shot of whisky in greeting.  

And then there were heavy bootsteps, and he saw Bethany fly across the taproom to offer the first hug of her own, wrapping her arms around the Guard Captain herself, another Fereldan, Aveline Hendyr, and everything was absolutely worth it to hear her laugh.

The night wore on, and on, until even this seediest of taverns was starting to cut off the ale.  Hawke invited them home, but Bethany declined, a slow shake of her head, whispering of Warden business and the need to continue on.

It was only when they’d said their last good-byes, Hawke’s compatriots scattering through the dank night air, and they were alone again, that he spoke up.

“Our ship doesn’t depart until tomorrow evening.”

“I know.”  Bethany’s head was tilted back, trying to peer through the fog from the foundries to find the stars.  “But getting put in the spare room — or worse, he might offer me mother’s, and there I’d be, surrounded by the life I never had, the one he takes for granted, wondering what Carver and Mother would’ve thought.”  Her voice broke, then, and she ducked her head.  He pretended not to notice the hand that rubbed against her eyes before the tears could trickle down her cheeks and nose.  “I thought I was past this, Nathaniel.  I thought…”

He finally pulled her into his arms, her hair catching against his cheek.  “We never get over our family, Bethany, no matter how much we try to make the Wardens our home.  I know.”

She snorted softly.  “I suppose you do, at that.  And you get to live in the same damn buildings, even.  How do you stand it?”

“Delilah was more my home than those walls ever were.”  

He could feel her smile as she tilted her head, leaning against his chest.  She liked Delilah, though they hadn’t had much chance to spend time together.

It was nice to stand there, for a moment or so, but the question of where they were going next started to grow in the darkness.  No point in avoiding the obvious question.

“Tell me about this Sebastian.”

Bethany let out a soft breath, almost a laugh, fading into a melancholy sigh.  “The former Brother Vael is quite determinedly not the man I met six years ago.  Not without cause, but I’m not quite sure how to answer that.”

“ Vael. ”

Nathaniel’s arms tightened around Bethany, holding her close as if to protect her from the fate of the Vaels of Starkhaven.  That name was certainly enough to answer all his questions.

“Do you want to find out?”  He felt Bethany shift as he spoke, pulling away enough to look up at his face.   _Can probably only see my damn nose in the shadows._   “What he’s like now, that is?”

“I.”  She paused, her hand sliding down his arm until he felt her fingers, warm and soft against his wrist.  “I would like to, yes.”

“Well then.”  He turned slightly, offering her his arm before heading for the stairs towards Hightown.  “Did you know, I almost met him once before?”

* * *

 

When he was 13, his father had taken him to a tourney in the Marches, as if hoping a proper display of swordsmanship and competition would make him more the heir Arl Rendon Howe wanted, rather than the one he had.

Nathaniel, instead, had snuck away to watch the archery competition.  Nathaniel was good enough at such things, for all he didn’t have the muscles yet to attempt a longbow.  But he already knew he was more interested in that than in his younger brother’s more favored forms of violence.

Thomas already enjoyed the swing of a sword a bit too much; not that Nathaniel had realized that at the time.

Nathaniel had been impressed by a man who dominated every round, solid form and clean straight lines.  He was whispered about, every time he stepped up to shoot, but he ignored the sounds and focused on his aim instead.

Nathaniel couldn’t help but listen, whether he wanted to or not, as the gossip grew louder around him.

_Only eighteen._

He looked older.

_Reckless._

He took his time with his aim, never rushing.

_Untrustworthy._

He lent another competitor his bow for her first round, when the woman’s squire failed to appear at the proper time, so she wouldn’t be disqualified on a technicality.

_Disgraceful._

Nathaniel was used to the edge of gossip bearing little similarity to his own observations, but this seemed more drastic a change than usual.

And then they even denied him the trophy, despite it being obvious to anyone over five that he’d hit the bull’s-eye every single time, which had to be better than everyone else who  hadn’t.

The whispers only grew though, hushed accusations of  relations  the night before with one of the judges.

The archer in second place, the one who’d borrowed his bow, had spat her disgust into the dust when they’d attempted to give her the trophy instead, and stalked away from the fairgrounds swearing under her breath.  

Nathaniel found himself agreeing with the sentiment when the third place man bowed over the golden cup, clutching it in greedy hands.  If this was how Honorable Tourneys were held, he had no use for such competitions.

Vael, however, (for that was who it had been, he’d never gotten a good look at his eyes but he should have recognized that form), had stood there the entire time, bow loose over his back, face smooth and impassive.  He’d even shaken the ‘winner’s’ hand before he left, back straight and stride firm.  Pride, or arrogance, or sheer bloody stubbornness, Nathaniel hadn’t been able to tell, but his 13-year-old self had liked him the more for it.

His 30-year-old self was quite sure he would’ve lost his temper, had such a thing happened to him at 18.

And he had to admit a slight curiosity, as to what such a man was like, almost twenty years later.  Someone who had lost everything, and was still delighted by heroism and legends of Grey Wardens, who could laugh at Hawke and hold his own against darkspawn, who genuinely enjoyed helping people, hard enough to kill and smooth enough to flirt in the Deep Roads.

Which really ought to have bothered him more than it did, but there was something about that smile, and that voice, and the honest appreciation in his eyes.

It was a rare treasure, to be appreciated.


	2. Bethany

Bethany was slightly startled by the warmth in Sebastian’s eyes when he answered the door.  He obviously hadn’t expected them to come.  She wondered how often her brother, boisterous and exuberant as he was, neglected to notice the quieter requests of his more reserved compatriots.  

Sebastian kissed her hand again in greeting, an almost formal brush of lips against her knuckles, though it lasted a breath longer than was probably appropriate.

Which was not thrilling, no.  Or disappointing when he let go.   _I have Nate, what am I doing, remembering the feel of his lips against my pulse?_

Sebastian used both hands to shake Nate’s hand in greeting, holding a moment too long there as well, a brush of fingers against skin, and she blinked to realize he was oh so delicately flirting with both of them.

From the hint of a twist across Nate’s mouth, he wasn’t surprised, so Sebastian had apparently flashed the charm at him before.

Nate didn’t seem to mind.

Which did not give her rather vivid images of the two of them kissing that made her knees feel slightly wobbly .   _Nope._   Not at all.

She was pretty sure she kept her legs firm as Sebastian waved them inside, asking if they’d prefer brandy or whisky or wine?

Nate answered for both of them when she was unusually silent,  _wine thank you_ ,  his hand warm on the small of her back as they stepped inside.  She almost stumbled on the edge of the rug, paying more attention to Sebastian’s long stride than where she put her own feet.

_What is wrong with me?_

She’d always rather liked Sebastian, and they’d exchanged more than a few letters over the years, as if he knew how poor a correspondent her brother was, but there’d never been anything more than that…

Though she’d kept the condolences he’d sent after her mother died, carefully tucked inside her volume of _Benedictions_ , safe and secure, if perhaps a little thin from repeated handlings, long after she’d lost the ones from Gamlen and Garrett .

Though they’d spent one very long night together, right after his family was killed, sitting on Gamlen’s roof.  He hadn’t said much, his back pressed to hers, as she told him about Carver and Father and Lothering, both of them staring at the stars until they faded with the dawn.

Though she’d managed to be honestly happy to see him, relief and happiness without the edges of regret and envy and frustration that her brother always inspired.

_Though he has a really nice arse._

Bethany almost coughed her wine back into her glass at that thought, and settled herself back against her chair, determined to keep her mouth shut before she said anything to support the odd turn her mind had taken.

Instead she listened.  They were mostly avoiding the topic of family, whether for themselves or her she wasn’t sure, though she felt a little sad that it wasn’t something any of them could enjoy.  

They had some mutual acquaintances, from Nate’s fosterage in the Marches, and then, unsurprisingly, they drifted to the topic of archery, tournaments and practicality, combat and practice.  She closed her eyes, letting the sound of their voices wash over her, the lilt of Sebastian’s accent and the rasp deep in Nate’s throat, even rougher than usual from the stress of the past few days.

The Deep Roads were never fun for anyone.

But now was not the time to think about that.

She was pretty sure they were discussing bows.  With terms like curve and belly and back, and the rather lascivious note she’d noticed most men got when talking about their weaponry, (though few were quite as blatant about it as Varric and Bianca), if she hadn’t heard the beginning of the conversation she might have thought they were comparing female conquests.

_I wonder how Nate thinks I compare to a good longbow beneath his fingers._

Bethany couldn’t quite contain the snicker from that thought, and opened her eyes at the sudden silence, feeling her body blush with heat.  Both of them were staring at her, Nate’s eyebrow arched, a curve lifting up one side of Sebastian’s mouth.

“Maker, you are beautiful.” Sebastian whispered softly.  Nate grunted in the back of his throat, and despite having known him for years, she wasn’t quite sure what he wasn’t saying, if it was part agreement or annoyance or jealousy or mostly something else entirely.

Sebastian shifted in his seat, his gaze moving over Nathaniel’s face instead of hers, his smile widening and his eyes dark.  “Sorry, I don’t think beautiful quite applies to you, Messere Howe.”  He leaned forward then, closer and closer, almost enough to touch, his voice still whisper soft.  “Though that doesn’t make you any less devastatingly appealing.”

Sebastian tilted his head, and Nate lifted his chin, not pulling away, not saying  anything,  and their noses brushed together, which was enough to make the muscles low in Bethany’s stomach clench,  _Maker, two gorgeous men, right there, and I’m turned on by noses, what is wrong with me?_   

Sebastian closed the distance between them, their lips pushing together, eyelids slowly closing, and she was pretty sure that ought to make her jealous, someone else kissing her lover, but she couldn’t manage it, couldn’t really manage any thought at all, a soft moan of approval escaping past her lips instead.

That was even better than she’d imagined.

They slowly pulled apart, and she almost whined, the sight of Sebastian’s tongue sliding out of Nate’s mouth, and then they were both looking at her again, and her breasts felt heavy and her thighs wanted to spread, her hips aching to roll, to invite one of them ( _both of them?_ )  between her legs.

“May I?”  There was a catch in Sebastian’s voice as he stared at her, one quick glance back at Nate as he waited, body tense and still.  She looked into Nate’s eyes herself, trying to read his mind, trying to figure out her own.  They’d never done anything like this before, they’d never discussed anything like this, but she wanted to spend the night with Sebastian, more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time, and she wanted Nate to be alright with it; more than that, she wanted him to want it too.

Comfort and sex and those bright blue eyes and that mouth against her skin.

Against Nate’s skin.

She would never have suggested it, but she’d seen the way his fingers curled when Sebastian kissed him, as if torn between caressing or grabbing or clenching the cushion beneath him, a sign he’d enjoyed it very much indeed.  

She always had liked Sebastian.

Some of it, all of it, must have shown on her face, in her eyes, because Nate’s nostrils flared an instant before he nodded.  

“Yes.” Her breath caught at the end of the word as a grin flashed across Sebastian’s face; she’d never seen him so honestly simply delighted in anything.

Not that she wasn’t equally delighted, at the first soft brush of his lips, and the warmth of his fingers as he took her hand and led them into the bedroom.


	3. Sebastian

Sebastian woke himself with a sneeze, blowing Bethany’s hair off his face.  He closed his mouth tightly, breathing slowly as the tickle in his nose eased, holding himself still, hoping he hadn’t woken either of them up.  He kept his eyes closed, savoring the pleasant soreness of a body well used, the hard edges of Nathaniel’s knees and elbows just brushing down his side, the weight of Bethany’s head on his shoulder.

He felt their presence in the slow beat of his heart as well, another ache, less tangible than the rest of his muscles, but no less real.  He couldn’t help but wish … couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if they could stay.

But that wasn’t how the world worked.  

Especially not his little corner of it.

He turned his head, just enough to smell Bethany’s hair past the stale tang of sex still lingering in the air.  She smelled bright and sweet, and he felt his breath stutter as the ache in his chest tightened.   _First and last chance to savor this.  Savor them.  Savor her._

She’d touched his heart six years ago, and despite being too grief stricken to to thank her properly at the time, he’d always been grateful to her, a kind heart and determined will.  A warm hand in his, helping him back onto his feet again.  A decent correspondent, even, the only mail he ever got worth looking forward to reading.  It had been such a delight to see her again, the strength he’d always felt in her on display now, no longer needing to hide.

_Such a beautiful woman._

He felt Nathaniel shift beside him, but the other man settled back with a sigh, still and heavy on his side of the bed.

_Now this._   

Seducing a man he’d barely met.  That sounded more like something Sebastian would’ve done before the Chantry, a trick of greed and desire to pass the time.  And yet, it felt completely different.  Lust, yes, but also respect and determination and clear dark eyes looking back at him.

Clear dark eyes easing into sleep.  

Nathaniel had woken up with a nightmare shortly after Bethany fell asleep, arms gripping tight as Sebastian soothed him awake, then softly sang him back to sleep again, an old nursery tale from his childhood sliding off his tongue in the darkness.

Sebastian hadn’t always slept alone, of course, but company was usually just a matter of convenience.  Never before such a warm tangle of limbs and breath and comfort.

He’d invited them to his home because he liked them.  He hadn’t realized quite how much, or how much the thought of them leaving again would hurt.  

_Story of my life.  Get myself in trouble and only realize it when it’s too late to get out of it again._

Not that last night wasn’t worth it.

This particular morning was as well, listening to them breathe, feeling them sleep.  They trusted him.  A gift beyond price, that, even if he never saw them again.

The unexpected touch of fingers along his hip almost made him jump, swallowing a groan as he tried not to jerk so much he woke up Bethany.  

Nathaniel was most definitely smirking at him, dark hair mussed and eyes shadowed by the curve of his brows and fingers slowly easing across Sebastian’s stomach.  ”I must admit,” Nathaniel’s voice was less than a whisper, a rough collision of breath and rasping consonants, “the morning after dealing with the Deep Roads is seldom this … pretty.”

Nathaniel’s eyes glanced over at Bethany, then back to Sebastian’s face.  His fingers dug into Sebastian’s stomach, a slight push as he shifted his weight up, and then his face was there, hovering for just a moment before their lips met in a slow kiss, the press of lips and the scrape of stubble against skin, heat warming him down to his toes.

“Did you know,” the sweet whisper of Bethany’s voice in his ear made Sebastian jump in truth, that time, even as Nathaniel slowly lifted his head, their bodies quite thoroughly surrounding him, “we have nowhere to be until sunset?”

“Mmmhmmm?” Sebastian managed, trying to look at both of them at once, feel both of them against his skin, their breath against his face.  

“Perhaps we could entice our host into indulging us for a round two, after breakfast?”  Nathaniel suggested, his smile small but warm.

“More like round three or four, isn’t it?”  Bethany laughed softly, her amusement interrupted by the growling of someone’s stomach.

_Possibly both their stomachs_ , Sebastian realized, trying not to laugh when the sound was repeated as they both slithered off the bed in search of clothes.  ”I think we can manage some breakfast, yes.  There’s a bakery next door, and the Innkeep has a deal with them.  You don’t actually need to find your boots.  I’ll ring for service, if you’d prefer to eat in?”

“Tea?”  Bethany lifted her head to look at him, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes wide and hopeful.

Sebastian did laugh that time, a warm chuckle that eased out of his chest.  ”And fruit, too, if you would like.”

“Ooooh,” her lips pursed and she literally bounced up onto the edge of the bed.  ”Can you get nectarines?  I haven’t had any in ages.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“She always drips juice down her chin.” Nathaniel offered with a lift of his brow.  ”We will have to clean her up, afterwards.”

“Then I shall go hunt them out of the market myself, if necessary.”  Sebastian offered both of them a smile, before finding his dressing gown and heading for the sitting room and the bell-pull for the maid.

***

Sebastian was not thinking, just walking, listening to the sound of three sets of boots, chasing long shadows edged in gold as the sun headed down past Kirkwall’s rooftops.  It had been a stunningly perfect day, breakfast and a morning abed, baths and a delicious luncheon and an afternoon spent strolling the Hightown markets.  Kirkwall was cleaner than usual, thanks to an early morning rainfall, the stone warm and smooth beneath their feet, the air damp and clean and bright, full of the smell of incense and spice, leather and metal, silk and feathers.

Plus food and wine, of course, from stalls and taverns and boarding houses.  Plenty of food in Hightown.  Sebastian was mostly amused, and perhaps almost slightly appalled, at how very much food Bethany and Nathaniel kept eating.

Not that he didn’t eat twice as much as usual himself, to be perfectly honest.  Fine company and all that extra exertion … he was rather sure his hips would be feeling the aftermath for at least a week.

But all days had to end, even (or perhaps especially) the perfect ones.

“We have to leave soon,” Bethany’s voice was soft, her hand resting lightly against his arm as Nathaniel led them down the last set of stairs towards the docks.  ”We have business further inland.  We could try and stop again, on our way back, if you’d like?”  Her head was tilted up towards him, not quite enough she could look at him directly, only a hint of brown visible beneath her lashes.

“Of course.  I would be delighted to see you again.”  Sebastian smiled, waited until her head lifted just a bit more so he could see her smile.  ”I have missed you.  And I shall miss your Nathaniel as well, once you both have left.”

“He’s not  my,  I mean…”

“Yes he is, Bethany,” Sebastian tried not to laugh at the hint of a blush rising on her cheeks, and almost even succeeded.  ”He’s a good man.  And you’re very important to him.  As he is to you, quite clearly.  Even if you never mentioned him in your letters to me.”  He leaned sideways just enough to jab her gently with his elbow.

“I never mention him to anyone.”  Her voice was soft, her eyes trained forward now, watching the shift of Nathaniel’s back, the steady stride of his legs in front of them.  ”I think I was trying to keep him to myself.”  She laughed, a short uneven sound, light and airy, as she leaned on Sebastian’s arm.  ”Until yesterday.”

“Not even a mention to Hawke?”

“I think you know me better than my brother now.”  Her shoulders shifted sideways, not quite a shrug.  ”He is dreadful at correspondence, curt sentences and small words, no hint of that laugh of his.  My own letters grow increasingly stilted in response.”

“Hmm.”  Sebastian slid his hand to hers, squeezing gently around her fingers, trying to think of what to say in the face of such deep, hard regret.  ”There’s nothing wrong with keeping your heart close.  But your brother does much the same, despite that laugh of his in company.  It’s no wonder it’s hard for the both of you.”

Bethany smiled again, sad and sweet both.

“There you are, sweet thing!” A sudden loud shout interrupted them before she could say anything else.  

“Going to sneak away without even saying good-bye, were you?”  Hawke was a step before Isabela, his entire crew spread out a few paces behind her, and for all he grinned and spread his arms wide without an apparent care in the world, Sebastian could see the crease between his brows, hear the worry hiding behind his shout.  

Sebastian nudged Bethany forward to give her brother a hug before her brain managed to get in the way.

“Did you give us away?” Nathaniel stepped up beside Sebastian, his voice an almost soundless murmur as they watched the Hawkes’ arms tighten around each other, Bethany’s face turned into her brother’s shoulder, Garrett’s eyes closed as he held on.  

“No, but I wouldn’t apologize if I had.”  Sebastian was equally quiet, but he’d caught a glimpse of Nathaniel’s face, the slight softening around his mouth that was his not-quite-smile.  Nathaniel was glad Bethany had been forced into a proper farewell, if he didn’t miss his guess.  ”Varric knows everyone, and Isabela knows the docks.  Not really surprised they figured it out themselves.”

“Could’ve warned us that might happen.”

“I was a little… distracted.”

Nathaniel didn’t answer, but one side of his mouth curved up in a rather smug smile.

Sebastian refrained from smiling back, mostly because Isabela was stalking towards him, and he was rather afraid of the expression on her face.

“You.”  Her eyes were narrowed as she stabbed at his chest with a finger.  He was quite grateful it wasn’t a dagger.  ”You were here before us.  And you didn’t tell Hawke?”

“She said she’d already done her good-byes.”  Sebastian decided to take the risk, lightly grasping Isabela’s hand and bowing over it, a brush of his lips against her glove.  ”Thank you for intervening.”

“Hmm.” Isabela snorted softly as he let go of her hand, but her eyebrows were no longer creased in a frown, and she stepped back with her usual carefree saunter, so he gathered he wasn’t in danger of imminent stabbing.  ”Aren’t you in a gallant mood, Vael.  What have you been up to today?”

Sebastian attempted an innocent wide-eyed smile, and was saved from the evasion that would’ve accompanied it by Nathaniel’s rather pointed cough and raised voice.  ”We must continue on our way, if you’d like to walk with us, Hawke?”

The Hawkes disengaged just enough to turn and continue, though Garrett kept Bethany’s arm tight in his as they walked, their heads bent close together, the murmur of their voices too soft for anyone else to catch the words.

Well, maybe Varric could hear them.  He always seemed to know everything, and his eyes were as sharp as ever.  But he kept his mouth shut, for once, apparently content just observing.  An almost laugh whispered its way through the group as they set off again, a skip in Merrill’s step, an easing of Fenris’ shoulders, the exhaustion in Anders’ eyes fading as he glanced at the brother and sister trailing behind the rest of them.

Not even Isabela attempted to slither close enough to eavesdrop.  Though that might have been because of the very solid Guard Captain striding firmly between her and her potential quarry.

Sebastian didn’t try to hide his smile, and he could see even Nathaniel’s lips twitch at the sight of the ragtag group all banding together to protect the infamous Champion and his sister from themselves.

“It’s a good team you have here,” Nathaniel nodded slightly backward, indicating the group filling the street behind them.  

Sebastian shrugged slightly.  Except perhaps for Fenris, they were all Hawke’s friends, not his, but they’d helped him when he needed it, no questions asked or recompense required, and he would do the same for them for as long as he was able.  ”They do tend to grow on one.”

“Are you comparing us to mushrooms now, Vael?”  Isabela had apparently given up on Bethany, and had opted for slipping in between Sebastian and Nathaniel instead.  ”Or do you need to go visit Anders to clear something up?”

“Possibly both, if you get much closer.”  Sebastian couldn’t resist, grinning as Isabela rolled her eyes at him.  ”You know you are my very favorite pirate ever.”

That got a snort, and then an answering grin.  ”I’m rather sure I’m the only pirate who’s ever been introduced to you, pretty boy.”

“Hmm, I suppose claiming all those Orlesian nobles I’ve had to dine with would rather be insulting to the pirates, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it would.”

“Do the tavern rats along the Minanter count?  Because I used to know an awful lot of them…”

“River bandits?”  Isabela sniffed, a shudder of her shoulders making her horror clear.  ”Not the same at all.  You need salt air blowing through your hair and the sea shifting beneath your feet to be a proper pirate.”

“Is it my turn to comment on the heaving floors and things in your hair as a result from too much ale at the Hanged Man?”  Nathaniel interrupted quietly, startling a quick glance from Isabela and a soft chuckle from Sebastian.  ”You do live there, correct?”

“Why yes I do.”  Isabela leaned in towards Nathaniel with a slow warm smile.  ”Clever sort of chap, aren’t you?”

“I try.”  Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at her, and her smirk changed into a more honest smile and she stopped edging closer.  

“Sorry.  I must say, our Sunshine appears to have lovely taste.”

“If you must say, then I must agree.”  Nathaniel sounded serious, hooded eyes glancing past Isabela towards Sebastian, who wasn’t sure if he should agree aloud or not, and was rather afraid he might be blushing.  They’d made it to the Wardens’ ship by then, unfortunately, and he didn’t have to figure out how respond obliquely to Nathaniel’s dark gaze.  

Instead he had to decide how to say good-bye.

It should have been easy enough; he’d had more people leave his life than stay, after all, so he’d had plenty of practice.  Yet loosening the grip of his fingers after shaking Nathaniel’s hand was almost impossible, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap him in an embrace and never let go.

Abandon Hawke and his duties and his lineage and his people and his home and run away with the Wardens.

_Maker, I’m a selfish idiot.  It’s not like they’d take me in, even if I could leave._

Garrett finally let go of Bethany, his face and body both unusually still as he watched her give her farewells to everyone else, hugs and smiles and the light brush of her graceful fingers, Nathaniel a step behind her the entire time.

She reached him last, and they stared at each other in silence, her eyes still and dark and her mouth almost curving upward.  He couldn’t read her expression, couldn’t tell what she was thinking.  Wasn’t sure what he was thinking either, so he supposed at least they were probably equally opaque.

Until the moment she leaned in, the brush of her lips soft against his cheek, and he had to close his eyes, quite desperately afraid his heart was on display on his face, the depth of his sorrow at her loss clear for all to see.

“I expect something dreadfully salacious in your next letter.”  Bethany barely moved her mouth, her whisper hot against his ear before she settled back on her heels, his melancholy briefly overshadowed as he was caught halfway between a laugh and a blush, and settled for a shrug and a smile.

She grinned at him, a hint of a blush of her own warming her skin and making her eyes sparkle.  ”Promise?”

“Of course, milady, I shall do my best.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”  Nathaniel didn’t smile, the strength of his profile and the shadows of his eyes holding nothing like the bright shift of expressions across Bethany’s face, and yet …

And yet.

Perhaps Sebastian was imagining things, as he stepped back to wait with Hawke while the Wardens boarded their ship, but he was convinced that had been a look of affection, of hidden regret as strong as his own.

They none of them were who they’d wished to be, were they?

But for all it hurt to say farewell, he could think of nothing he wanted more than the chance to do so again.


End file.
